


Recovery

by cryingbutsmiling



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, cas' angel bamf is 2hot2handle, random demon attack ah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-20 01:06:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryingbutsmiling/pseuds/cryingbutsmiling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Cas tries to help Dean fight off a demon but accidentally causes more damage. Dean needs a bit of help recovering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recovery

The demon had Sam pressed against a wall when Dean burst into the motel room, causing the old, slightly rotten wood of the door to slam against the peeling wall with a mighty crash. Dean had no idea how the demon had managed to get into the room but it was not his top concern in this moment as he saw unconsciousness falling over Sam, forcing him into a veil of oblivion.

Rushing across the room with a cry of his brother’s name, Dean tore the black-eyed demon away with as much force as he could muster. Sam’s body fell slack, slumped against the wall, unmoving, leaving Dean to deal with the attack alone. The demon quickly recovered from the momentary shocked stupor Dean’s interference awarded and threw the conscious Winchester against the wall without a touch. Dean smiled tightly as he felt a warm trickle of blood trail down his forehead, laughing against the pain of the collision. As the villain stalked towards him with a sick smile gracing his crazed face, Dean forced his hand to move against the invisible restraints the demon had thrust upon him, pulling out the familiar blade of Ruby’s knife from his jacket pocket. Dean lunged forwards to drive the knife into the demon’s body, but the creature was fasting, dislodging the weapon from Dean’s hand as he threw him against the ground. Dean groaned at the impact, his head spinning with the pain, disorientating him greatly.

“You have to be better than that, Winchester,” the demon hissed through yellowed teeth, moving to straddle Dean, tightening his hands around his throat, forcing the air out of his lungs. Dean grasped wildly in a frantic search for the knife which had clattered to the floor with his own descent, his eyes closing in sheer agony.

“Pathetic,” the demon spat as if his words were poison, “just like your brother. Killing you will be s-”

And then the tightness lifted from Dean’s throat, air rushing back into his lungs with gusto. Dean sat up slowly, still confused and disorientated, the room spinning slightly. He registered a faint fluttering sound but couldn’t place it in this state. He opened his eyes to get a better idea of what was happening only to close them again more tightly and turn away from the brilliant blinding light that was engulfing the room and covering his ears against the high pitched static that saturated  the air.

It was all over in a few moments, the light left swiftly and the noise disappearing, leaving the Winchester with a horrible throbbing pain in his head. He opened his eyes slowly, clinging on to the brink of consciousness, trying to figure out what had happened. His eyes slowly focussed on the figure of Castiel dressed immaculately in his normal trench coat. In that moment he could have sworn he witnessed the dark shadow of the angel’s wings retracting but the sight left with the blink of his tired eyes.

“Cas,” he croaked out, his voice breaking as he tried to pass the words through his weakened throat. Though his voice had barely made a sound, the volume seemed deafening in the now too quiet room, his own words causing further agony in his head. The angel shushed him gently before crouching down and placing his fingers to Dean’s temples, reducing the pain to a much duller and more manageable level. Coming slightly to his senses, Dean looked over to his brother with great worry.

“Sammy? -”

“Is fine,” Castiel responded quietly in his normal, unaffected tone, “he’s resting now but he will be fine in the morning.”

“Oh,” Dean said plainly, struggling to stop his eyelids from falling, feeling strangely lethargic staring into Cas’ too blue eyes.

The angel moved away from Dean, removing his hands from Dean’s head and making to stand up. Instantly the pain returned, worse than before, wrecking Dean’s brain with its sheer intensive attack. He yelled out hoarsely, curling into a tight ball on the floor.

Cas returned almost immediately, returning his fingers and soothing touch to Dean’s head. Calmness overcame Dean with Cas’ movement, the peaceful effect seeping in through his skull, reducing the ache to a nagging thrum.

“I’m afraid I may have damaged you further than I anticipated,” Cas provided with the slightest hint of worry tainting his voice, his eyebrows knitting together.

“You think?” Dean said with the bite of bitter laughter accompanying his pained statement, “you know I can’t handle your _angelic glory,_ Cas.”

“My apologies. I couldn’t let you be killed by a simple demon, though,” Castiel replied.

Dean huffed heavily, pushing aside his wounded pride and focussing more on his wounded head. Despite his annoyance with the angel, Dean moved further into Cas’ comforting touch, resting his heavy head against the angel’s shoulder in attempts to dull down the pain further.

“What are you doing?” Castiel questioned, curiosity riddling his voice as the Winchester all but nuzzled his head into his shoulder.

“Recovering,” Dean deadpanned, his voice fairly muffled, refusing to be denied the peaceful bliss his position awarded him.

A plain silence fell over them, no tension or awkwardness ruining the moment. Dean felt himself drifting slightly as he leaned against Cas when the angel started to shuffle slightly, tentatively bring his arms up to encase Dean.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked, moving his head from the crook of Castiel’s neck and pulling back slightly, initiating eye contact.

“Helping you recover,” Castiel responded, meeting Dean’s eyes. Both men shared a searching look, desperate to find the obvious answers to their questions. Dean, in attempts to hide his true response to the angel’s brilliant blue eyes, smirked slightly.

“We could definitely further speed up my recovery process,” Dean coyly stated.

Cas’ eyes narrowed slightly, clearly confused.

“I don’t underst-”

Dean boldly moved in, his lips landing messily on Cas’, cutting off his speech. Castiel remained stoic, shocked by the sudden warmth of Dean’s mouth moving against his own. Dean pulled back suddenly, horrified by Cas’ lack of response, fear etched onto his face.

 “Oh,” Castiel let out flatly, his voice providing no emotion. He saw Dean go to open his mouth, most likely to apologise profusely and beg to not be smitten but did not allow him the chance to produce any words.

Cas pressed his mouth back against Dean’s partly opened lips, nibbling gently on the lower protruding lip, causing it to swell, even fuller than before. Castiel’s left hand entwined it’s self in Dean’s messy hair, his right trailing to his waist to pull him in closer still. The kiss was imperfect, too much tongue, too much teeth, yet Dean, in all his experience, had never felt this connected to another being.

Gasping for air, Dean drew back reluctantly, resting his forehead against Cas’ own. He admired the slightly flushed colour of the angel’s cheeks as he came down from the euphoric high.

“Well that was different,” Dean breathlessly stated.

“I liked it,” Cas said simply.

“Let’s do it again sometime,” Dean replied, his lips curving into a smile.

“Okay,” Cas responded with a smile of his own.

**Author's Note:**

> the end woop


End file.
